


ConHayth Snippets

by TheWritingGuineapig (Aridette)



Series: Short Haytham/Connor Stories [6]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, F/F, First Kiss, Frottage, Genderbending, Kissing, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Snippets, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4198431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aridette/pseuds/TheWritingGuineapig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets I wrote for this pairing (some of them I already posted on tumblr).<br/>Additional explanations at the beginning of each chapter.</p><p>Chapter 01 - fem!Haytham&fem!Connor<br/>Chapter 02 - Vampire AU part 1<br/>Chapter 03 - Vampire AU part 2<br/>Chapter 04 - First Kisses<br/>tbc</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Mother Like Daughter (fem!AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is a snippet I wrote for a femAU, and nothing gay/incestuous is happening in here.  
> I wanted to write more for this universe, but I simply didn't have any good ideas for the story. Basically, I wanted to explore how different their relationship would be if they were mother and daughter.  
> Well, it's super short, but here you go =)

**March 1757**

 

Haytham knew it was for the better as she looked at the tiny child in its father’s arms. Big, golden-brown eyes watching her in confusion. She was too small to understand why her mother would give her away.

“Are you sure about this?”, Ziio asked. He gently pushed a strand of thick black hair out of the child’s face.

A numbness she hadn’t felt since her mother’s death began to fill Haytham’s mind.  
“It’s for the better.”, she stated mechanically, repeating it like a mantra in her head. Clearing her throat, she continued: “You know who I’m associated with. I don’t think raising a child into an ancient war is a responsible upbringing. My war is an endless one and I don’t want her to become a part in it. With you and your people who will become hers, too, she will live a life far away from all of this. A peaceful one.”

“Are those words true or do you simply want to get rid of the burden this girl presents to you, Haytham?”

Ziio narrowed his eyes at her, she smiled sadly in return.  
“Well, what difference would that make?”

The child in Ziio’s arms began squirming, stretching its short arms out in an attempt to get back to its mother, demanding: “Up!”. Haytham leaned down, kissed her daughter on the forehead and whispered, unable to hold back a sob:  
“I love you, Connor.”

“I will take good care of our child. Not for your sake, but for hers.”

She nodded at him. Then Haytham rode away, not looking back once.

It was for the better.  
The unbelieving look on her little girl’s face as she was placed in the arms of someone she didn’t know.  
It was for the better.  
The whiny sound of “Mum-mum!” as Haytham turned to mount her horse; it still ringed in her ears.  
It was for the better.  
The memory of Connor’s face, giggling as she bathed her on a sunny day, now eternities away.  
It was for the better, it was for the better, it was for the better.

_It was for the better._

* * *

  **19 years later**

 

As Connor regained consciousness she could barely open her eyes; the sunlight was way too bright.  
She groaned and tried to remember what had happened … Right, she had chased Tamsin Hickey. They’d gotten caught …  
The Commander! Connor didn’t know where Hickey was now and therefore whether Washington was safe or not.  
She forced her eyes open and sat up.

How odd.

She blinked. Someone had brought her into a rather neat-looking room with a comfortable and clean bed, but robbed her of all her weapons. Letting her gaze wander to the windows, Connor froze. A woman was standing there, facing Connor, the bright light around her making it hard to really see her face.  
Connor squinted her eyes.  
“Who are you? Where is Tamsin Hickey?”

“She’s in Bridewell Prison at this very moment.” The stranger paused. “Though this will hardly keep her from carrying out her mission.”

A Templar, then. Connor tensed. Why was she still alive if this woman indeed was a Templar? If she had wanted to interrogate her, she’d be in chains in some cellar or a warehouse near the harbour, not comfortably lying in a nice room. If the woman was a friend, she wouldn’t have disposed Connor of her weapons. Nothing made sense.  
The woman stood still, watching her attentively.  
“What do you want from me?”, Connor asked.

“To end this madness and return to your people, for a start.”

“I do not understand … ”

“This isn’t what I wanted for you, Connor.”

Connor’s mind razed. This woman was a Templar; a Templar who knew her name; a Templar who spared her life even though she had had the chance to end it …  
“ … Mother?”, she asked in disbelieve.


	2. Blood Ties 1/2 (vampireAU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I created this big vampire AU inside my head and I had to write something down for it.  
> I love it and I want to write the whole story, but unfortunately it is going no-where.  
> But as soon as I have a good ending for it, I'm gonna write the whole thing.
> 
> The vampires in this AU are not supernatural undeads, but a different human race.  
> The Assassin's are hunters (and just called "the Hunters"), the Templars are vampire royalty and act like a secret government for them.

“Church has at least a day on us … We must move quickly if we're to catch him.”

“I have a ship we can use.” Connor said. His father raised a brow. “Meet me at the pier when you're ready.”

“No. No, son. Wait a moment.” Haytham gestured somewhere behind him “There is a fort nearby, Fort Arsenal. It's under my control. We should get dry clothes there.”

“But we do not have the time-”

“Look: I know I said 'move quickly', but one hour more or less – at most – _won't_ make a difference anymore. If both of us catch a cold, on the other hand, it _will_.”

Connor tilted back his head and watched his father, pondering. He was wet, cold and his hair reeked of smoke. He nodded.

“Excellent. Follow me then.”

* * *

 

Looking up, Connor regarded the Templar Fort's manor with suspicion. His unease wasn't unfounded; he was about to go into the lion's den after all. However, as Haytham shot him a questioning glance, he hurried to follow him inside. The servant who let them in watched Connor scrutinisingly, but remained silent, except for a solemn “Good evening, Master Kenway.”  
As the dry warmth of the building engulfed Connor, he couldn't suppress a shudder, suddenly feeling even colder from the stark contrast of his freezing skin against the warm air.

“Father...”

“Hmmn?”

Connor looked around, eyeing the many red crosses. “Is this is your nest?”

Haytham led him up a staircase. “Well, we call it 'headquarters', but yes.”

“Why have you brought me here?” When his father didn't answer, Connor continued “Do you think it wise to invite a Hunter inside?”

Haytham stopped in front of a door and fished an iron key out of his pockets. “We have a truce, don't we. Also I wouldn't like you to get ill if we are going to be penned up together on that ship of yours.” He opened the door.  


“Do not take me lightly, father.” Connor said. He leaned against the door frame while Haytham began rummaging through his drawers. The room was smaller than he had expected and was stuffed with books and papers, the fireplace was lit and crackled pleasantly. There were no pictures on the walls nor decoration in the room, he noted, slightly surprised.

“I think _you're_ taking lightly _how wet_ you are, Connor.” His father tossed him a dry set of clothes and began undressing. Misinterpreting his son's hesitation, he added “They should fit you just fine.”

Changing his clothes as fast as possible, Connor tried not to stare at Haytham's back. The man seemed in no rush at all. Water was dribbling from his hair over his neck and down his back. Once more this day, Connor felt the strong urge to bite his father. He shook his head in annoyance. He usually didn't have problems with controlling his hunger.  
The shirt and the breeches fitted well enough, but he had to fasten the bindings under his knees more than comfortable for him so the stockings would stop sliding down; they definitely were his least favourite part of colonist clothing. The vest was a bit too loose above his stomach and impossible to button up above his chest. He did feel warmer now, though.  
Then, he realised that these were his father's clothes; they smelled of him. They smelled _delicious_.

“Put your wet clothes on the chair near the fireplace.”

Haytham gestured to said chair, but Connor's eyes were glued to the other vampire's neck, his father was clad only in shirt, breeches and stockings this far, so there was no cravat obstructing the young vampire's view. He swallowed hard. The playful way the collar's thin cotton grazed over the skin of the neck ever so slightly. Teasingly.

“Father... I need to drink from you.” he heard his own voice say.

With a smug expression, Haytham sat down on the bed and unbuttoned his collar. “Of course. I was actually wondering when you'd ask for it. But make it quick.”

Connor slowly went over. He could see the pulse beating under Haytham's skin, could smell him. Why did he smell so delicious?  
Then, something inside his head snapped. He grabbed his fathers jaw, slammed him down on the bed and drove his fangs into his neck like a predator starving.  
The warm, salty blood flooded his mouth and he moaned indecently. He had never tasted something this _perfect_ before. Haytham was complaining and squirming under him. Connor only bit down with more force and held him in place. This blood was liquid, pure _bliss_. He felt secure, he felt warm, he remembered sitting with his mother by the campfire while she taught him to read. He hadn't known he still had this memory.  
He needed more.  
Sucking harder, Connor finally felt his father's resistance diminish.

The door crashed open. Connor felt like being ripped out of a trance. He sat up and blinked. His father's blood was everywhere: on the sheets, on his hands, on his clothes. Flowing from Haytham's neck.

Everything seemed to slow down.

No.  
Connor pressed his hands against the gaping wound. Slowly, shaking. His father's face was pale, so, so pale.  
No.  
Someone pushed him aside, yelling something, pressing their steady hands against the bleeding. Haytham's eyes fluttered shut. The shaking spread through Connor's whole body.  
_Please_ , no.  
The heat, the flames, the smell of burning flesh. He was back in Kanatahséton, everything was covered in smoke and fire, the hot air was burning his lungs, he cried, his mother told him she loved him. He couldn't lift the wooden beam, he couldn't. He tried so hard, but he couldn't.  
He couldn't.

* * *

 

A slap on his face brought him back to the Templar Fort. A heavy glass filled with an amber liquid was placed in his hand. He was still shaking.

“Are you back with us, lad?” a boomy, yet friendly voice asked.

Connor looked up from the glass into a face he didn't know. His clothes were that of a frontiersman. Fine crinkles around his eyes deepened as he gave the young vampire a reassuring smile.  
Connor opened his mouth, then he closed it again. Why was he here? He was in New York. He had followed his father to where he suspected Benjamin Church to-  
His father!  
The glass fell out of his hand, he jumped to stand.  
“Is he alive?” he demanded to know, his voice, too, quivering.

“Aye, he is.” the stranger said. As Connor opened his mouth, he continued “But you can't see him... yet, I'm afraid.”

Connor nodded and flopped back on the couch. His father was alive. He hadn't killed him. _He hadn't killed him._  
Exhaustion washed over him.  
“Who are you?” he asked the man. He wasn't particularly interested, but he needed to keep talking or he'd panic again.

“The name's Christopher Gist, at your service.”

“And who might you be, Hunter?” a voice from behind Connor asked. A second stranger was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, nervous tension written all over his face.

“This gentleman goes by the name of Shay Cormac,” Gist said “And yes, he was standing there the whole time.” he added with unveiled amusement.

Connor took some time to study Shay's face. He recognised him from one of the paintings in the manor's basement. Achilles had told him that he was the Order's blood hound, he recalled. Once he'd been a Hunter, too, but had been turned and was one of the Templars' most loyal and dangerous members now.  
As soon as Connor was back in the homestead, he'd have to tell Achilles about Christopher Gist, this man didn't have a portrait on the cellar's wall yet.  
“Connor.” he answered.

Shay smiled grimly. “Achilles gave you that name, didn't he.”

Connor ignored him.  
“I want to see my father.” Even if they said he was alive, why should he trust them? He _couldn't_ trust vampires, let alone Templars. The panic inside him was threatening to paralyse him once again. “I need to feel his heart beat myself.” He looked Gist straight in the eye.

Shay gawped. “Your _father_?”

Gist laughed out loudly.  
“Now, that's quite unexpected!” Then something in his gaze softened. “You don't know how to drink without killing, do you?” he asked gently.

After his comrade had said that, Shay watched the young vampire a bit less wary. “Nothing the Hunters have had an interest in teaching you, I guess.”

“Not your problem.” Connor said defensively.

“You _made_ it our problem, child.”  
The three men turned to look at the person who had spoken. A lean-looking, elegantly clothed man walked into the room. His hair and beard were of a greyish, sandy blond colour and his eyes … _yellow_? He was watching them attentively, like a bird of prey.  
“So you're Haytham's son. No wonder he's let his guard down.” What he said didn't sound accusing, a bit melancholic perhaps, and much like he was from a different world. Connor couldn't help thinking of the way the spirit had spoken to him, eight years ago.

Connor stood up. “I want to see him.”

“You almost killed him, not an hour ago.” This time, something akin to irritation entered the man's voice. “Haytham needs to rest.”

“Master Prometheus, sir,” Gist said, “I don't think the lad is of any danger to him, not anymore.”

The otherworldly Prometheus nodded slowly, gaze fixed on Connor. “Hm, yes, you're right, Christopher. He's sated after all.”

Shay walked over to Prometheus. “I'll accompany him, sir, make sure Master Kenway's safe.”

“Don't hesitate to end the child, in case you must.”

“I- ...of course, sir.”

Connor didn't mind the way they were talking about him, he just wanted to see his father, feel his presence. He didn't know why, but he felt like denying him this for much longer would leave him to break on the inside.  
He impatiently followed Shay down a long corridor to the room his father was lying inside. Crossing the distance from the door to the bed in few, swift steps, he finally felt his heart slow down a bit. Haytham looked awfully pale and exhausted, his blood had stained a great part of the sheets, but he definitely was alive. Alive.  
Connor just stood there, staring down at his father, watching him breathe. With each heaving of Haytham's chest his own felt less constricted.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Shay said “The bond we have with our makers can be intimidating, even scary sometimes.” Connor turned his head to face him. “But at the same time, it's the most beautiful feeling in the world.”

“He is not my 'maker'. He is my father.”

Shay smiled sadly. “That makes him your maker. People like us can't have children without being their maker as well.”

Connor turned back to watching his father's shallow breathing.  
“I do not even know him, not really. I cannot say I like him, either.”

“The thought of losing him made you feel grief and despair, didn't it? Like you'd die inside if he perished?” Connor remained silent and Shay sat down on a chair. “Denying your nature will only lead to more sorrow.”

“I am not like you.” He was a Hunter, he was different to other vampires. He was no monster, no slave to his animalistic nature.  
Haytham stirred in his faint.  
Suddenly Connor remembered something important. “Church,” he began, “He has betrayed your Order and stolen supplies from the Continental Army, he is taking them to Martinique with a ship named _Welcome_. I... do not think I can leave my father's side before he is better.” He wished he could, but he had to be honest; this was too important.

“We'll chase the bastard,” Shay said, “I'll go now, before he gets away.”

“Wait.” Connor gave the other vampire a stern look. “My father told me the Templars are not conspiring with the British. You have to bring back the stolen supplies to Valley Forge, to Washington's men. They need them.”

“Don't worry. We want this war to end just as much as you do.”

With these words, Shay left Connor alone with Haytham.

Tentatively, the young vampire sat down on the edge of the bed, nervously folding his hands. Slowly but surely, with every breath and every heartbeat of his father's, his panic subsided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you wondered: Shay's maker was Monro (who also turned Gist).


	3. Blood Ties 2/2 (vampireAU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of the vampireAU  
> I posted this a few months ago on my nsfw tumblr
> 
> It takes place a few days after the events of part 1

“Does it hurt?” Connor asked guiltily as his father bestrode his lap.

Haytham tapped against his bandaged neck and raised his brows. “This? Yes, it does,” he said mildly. When Connor avoided his gaze, he took the Hunter’s chin between thumb and index finger, forcing him to look up. “You’ve made a mistake, boy, yes. Would I be dead if it wasn’t for Prometheus? Most certainly. Still,” he paused shortly until Connor looked him in the eye, “I _didn’t_ die. Regretting what you did won’t change a thing. Learning, so you won’t do something like this again, will. Are we understood?” Connor nodded. “Well, then take your shirt off, Connor. There’s no need to ruin it.”  
Haytham helped him pull his shirt over his head and the young vampire put it beside himself on the couch. He suddenly felt uneasy, with his torso bared and his father – part of the evil he had sworn to kill – sitting on his lap, about to do what only monsters, _abominations_ , did, pretending it was the most natural thing in the world. Haytham leaned down, his breath dancing over Connor’s neck hotly.  
“Always make sure,” the Templar began his explanation, “That your partner – the _victim_ , as you Hunters say – is calm and contend. Never drink from a nervous or even scared individual or you will risk hurting them. Also, never drink when you’re desperate for blood. You know how this ends. Find your partner’s pulse before you bite them. Furthermore, you should prepare them; this will improve the blood flow in the area so you won’t have to suck as strongly as you would have to otherwise. That would be unpleasant for them.”  
Before the Hunter could ask what kind of preparation his father was talking about, Haytham began kissing his neck gently, licking and sucking without any force on his pulse. Connor grabbed the couch cushion in response, trying not to give away how startled he was. As his father began to intensify his efforts, the boy released a shaky breath and couldn’t help jerking his hips to meet Haytham’s. The elder vampire hummed against his throat in amusement.

Connor let out a whine. “Father, stop. … _Stop!_ ”

Haytham sat up, wiping saliva from his mouth. “What is it now?”

"I am … getting aroused,” Connor said firmly, embarrassment written all over his face.

The Templar knitted his brows. “Yes, I did notice. That’s perfectly normal, Connor. I’m your Maker after all. Well, one of your Makers, but still.” When Connor stared at him in disbelieve, he sighed and continued: “We’re not the same as other humans. Their narrow ideas of moral don’t apply to us. We were made to be an enhanced version of them, not only physically, but psychologically as well.”

Connor frowned. “ _This_ is an improvement?” he scoffed.

“Why not? Because clinging to medieval moral codes is _any_ better? _Their_ moral is that of lower humans, _we_ have been constructed and bred not as a slave race, but to govern ourselves,” Haytham said, rolling his groin against his son’s. Connor closed his eyes and moaned as his father repeated the movement again and again. “There is nothing wrong with enjoying things which harm no-one.”

“So, this is a normal body reaction when getting bitten?” Connor asked insecurely.

“If you want to put it that way, son.” Haytham leaned in once more, hovering over the Hunter’s neck. “I’d rather say that it simply isn’t unusual to find sexual pleasure in the intimate act of sharing blood with people of your blood, regardless of considering them family,” he breathed against the already sensitive skin, making the other shudder.

The young vampire cocked his head to the side, giving his father easier access to his pulse, thus implying his approval to resume. “People of my blood?” he asked weakly as the Templar continued licking and sucking.

“Your Maker, in cases like yours your parents; those your Maker made, if born as vampires that also includes your siblings; as well as the ones you made, which can be your own offspring, if sired as a vampire,” Haytham explained before gently driving his fangs into soft flesh.

First, all Connor sensed was a little sting, then nothing, up to the point he could feel his blood shooting from his veins and into his father’s mouth. Then, he felt it. It was undoubtedly different from the ecstasy of drinking blood, it was calmer, gentler, but not any less delightful. A delicious coppery smell filled his nose, making him moan. He wrapped his arms around the elder vampire to hold him close, feeling a warm wave of security and love wash over him. That wave was followed by another, and another, and one more after that. Haytham began rolling his hips once more and Connor instantly returned the favour, moaning again and softly calling out for his father. The Templar let out a deep, satisfied growl against his throat, and Connor felt he was getting close. Clinging on to his father, he ground erratically against him, until Haytham began sucking more forcefully and his head began to spin, and he was pushed over the edge.  
When his need was sated and the euphoric feeling had slowly ebbed away, all that remained was the irrational feeling of being loved and safe, accompanied by a dull throb where his father had bitten him.

Haytham licked a few times over the two smallish wounds to stop the bleeding. Then he took off his white embroidered scarf and pressed it against the maltreated neck. “I got a bit carried away at the end, I hope I wasn’t too rough,” he said, almost apologetically. “It’ll leave a mark. Only temporarily, though.”

Connor took the cloth in his hand and made a content little noise. “It was not painful.”

“You sound surprised.” Haytham gave him an arrogant smile. “I told you it wouldn’t be.”

Connor hummed neutrally.  
“Do you want me to … take care of your ‘problem’, father?” he asked after a while, stroking the Templar’s clothed bulge. Haytham sucked air in through his teeth in response.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate that.”


	4. First Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two little snippets which used to be part of one of the upcoming chapters of "Coming Home". But then we changed plans and the conhayth will be established way later in the storyline and I can't use them anymore. That made me sad coz I liked my snippets.
> 
> So! both snippets are attempts at writing a scene for their first kiss. Both begin with Connor saying "I want to kiss you (,father)."  
> from then on they're different, the first snippet being an awkward first kiss, the second one being a very sweet one.

1st Version: Awkward First Kiss  


“I want to kiss you, father.”  
  
His sudden confession was met with silence. Haytham studied his face. Piercing storm-grey eyes were glued to Connor's as though he was trying to look into his head.  
After a while the Templar seemed convinced of his son's sincerity and said “You may.”  
  
Connor thought for a moment he hadn't heard right. “I may?” he asked in confusion.  
  
“Kiss me.” Haytham gave him a short smile, curiosity glistering in his eyes. “If you wish to.”  
  
An embarrassment Connor hadn't felt before made his ears and cheeks grow hot. He had expected his father to either make fun of him or politely reject him, now he felt unsure about what to do. He had only told Haytham because he had wanted to get this distracting thought out of his head.  
  
Haytham raised his brows. “If you're just going to stand there like a statue, I'd rather go do something else.”  
  
“Wait.”  
Connor felt his heart hammer in his chest as he took a step towards his father. They stood so close, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Their easy proximity made Connor aware that he had never flinched from Haytham's touch either. How odd.  
He grabbed his father's face and pressed his lips against his. At least that was what he had meant to do, but instead their noses bumped together and his mouth hurt from the crash.  
Despite everything it felt good to be so close to each other.  
  
Haytham drew back, a frown on his face. “Really?” he asked with a sigh. “If that is something you call technique, boy, I really pity your woman.”  
  
“I do not have a woman.”  
  
“No wonder, I guess they all run away the minute you kiss them.”  
  
Connor crossed his arms, anger and embarrassment reddening his face even more. That was not fair, it wasn't like he had any experience in this field. But that he certainly would not tell his father.  
After a few seconds of glaring at the Templar's displeased face, Connor came to a decision.  
“Can you teach me?”  
  
“To kiss properly?”  
  
Connor nodded.  
  
Haytham hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I could do that” he finally said. “But tell me, Connor, why did you want to kiss me in the first place?”

 

 

2nd Version: Sweet First Kiss

  
“I want to kiss you.” Connor said.  
  
Haytham finished the sentence he was writing into his journal and poured sand over the wetly glistening ink. Then he turned his head. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
Connor intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. The usually imposing figure he made in his captain uniform was dimmed by his flustered expression.  
“I said that I want to kiss you, father.”  
  
Haytham now fully turned around in his seat to face his son. For a moment he did nothing but look Connor up and down, searching for any indication of this being a joke. When he failed to find anything but embarrassed determination, he asked quietly “And why is that?”  
  
An irritated look crossed Connor's face. “I do not know. But it is something I would like to do.” There was dormant anger in his voice. Anger which was directed at himself, because he could not stop having these thoughts. Ridiculous, uncalled for thoughts. Thoughts about his father.  
And he was also angry at Haytham for being the way he was. There was nothing even remotely nice about the Templar and yet …  
  
Haytham hummed thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on Connor.  
“Very well then.” he said after a while.  
  
Connor had not expected his father to react this way. He opened and closed his mouth without saying a word. Why would Haytham even accept? Was he joking? Connor always found it hard to tell in which way the Templar meant anything he said.  
  
“I'm not making fun of you, Connor.” Haytham said as if reading the Assassin's thoughts. He stood up and took a few measured steps towards his son, until they were close enough to touch.  
  
Connor swallowed nervously. He had never seen his father's face in such detail before. His right hand curled into a nervous fist while he hesitantly stretched out his left to touch Haytham's cheek.  
Warm skin against his.  
It took a moment until he got used to that feeling. He swallowed again. Then Connor unclenched his other hand to cup Haytham's face.  
Spirits, he wished he could read his father. What was the man thinking? The Templar waited patiently for Connor's actions, his eyes boring into the Assassin's. Connor could not say whether he liked that or not. He took a step closer. Now he could feel the slow heaving and falling of Haytham's chest against his, which was all but rocking up and down. He let his gaze drop lower, to the Templar's mouth. Connor felt hotter with every passing second. He _had_ to kiss those lips.  
Connor's breath hitched as he felt his father's hands on his upper arms, soothingly steadying him.  
This was almost too much.  
Taking heart, Connor tilted his head, closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips against Haytham's.  
The beating in his chest seemed to stop for a second, or an hour, he did not know. In an instant the world stopped turning as well, his legs felt weak and he could no longer tell up from down.  
It felt like flying, it felt like falling, but more than anything it felt good.  
Then Haytham pulled away.  
Connor blinked in confusion. Reality slowly manifested around him again. His head still felt fuzzy , however.  
  
“Is your curiosity quenched, then?”  
  
Connor blinked once more. Haytham looked at him questioningly.  
“Can we do that again?” he asked instead of answering.  
  
A hungry gleam entered Haytham's gaze. He took his son's chin. “If you wish.” he whispered against Connor's lips before closing the gap between the both of them entirely.  
He kept the kisses gentle and slow, taking the Assassin's lower lip between his own once in a while, evoking the smallest moans.  
When he pulled away after a while, he couldn't help but smile at the mesmerised look Connor gave him. The boy's eyes were glazed and he seemed likely to faint any second. Haytham gave him a last, quick kiss.  
  
This time it took a bit longer until Connor felt completely back in the real world again. He let his fingers glide over the silver hair at his father's temples.  
Then the deeper reality of the situation sank in.  
He had just kissed his own father.


End file.
